The Rose Garden
by bleedingxheart
Summary: It's late at night. Harry can't sleep. He feels compelled to go to the rose garden. Who he finds there, and what he witnesses, will change his life forever. HPDM Slash.
1. That Strange Night

'**To love is to receive a glimpse of heaven.' – Karen Sunde **

The Rose Garden – Chapter One: That Strange Night

It was a strange night. It was the kind of night when the entire world seemed much smaller. There was a sense of expectation in the air, something that made it seem to sparkle all around you. The world was close. Intimate. Special.

On this strange night, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the sunny day had long before bowed to the darkest night. The walls of the castle were shadowed, as there were no torches to shoot light from the many windows.

The seemingly endless floors and corridors within were completely deserted, and silent as a tomb. All of the students were in their dorms, fast asleep, as they should have been. It was approaching 3 o' clock in the morning, so it was no wonder everyone was asleep.

Everyone, that is, except Harry Potter.

He couldn't sleep.

Surprisingly, this was a rare occurrence for him. Considering who he was and what he had been through in his six years at the school, sleep had never been an issue. He would always go to bed, lie down, and be asleep within half an hour, guaranteed, every night. But this night, this strange, warm night in late May, he had been lying in bed for hours, and nothing yet.

His friends' rasping snores filled the dorm room. Loudest of all came from the bed to the left of his – Ron's bed.

Harry sat upright in his bed, arms wrapped tightly around his knees. His chin rested on top of his kneecaps as he stared unseeingly into the shadows floating over the sheets.

He closed his eyes, willing the overwhelming oblivion of sleep to take over his senses. Finding his body unwilling to obey the need, he opened his eyes and reached for his wand on the darkly wooded bedside table.

He raised it and murmured, "Tempus."

A clock appeared before his eyes, hovering slightly, numbers and hands on the face glowing green in a way that was eerie in the darkness. They told him the time was exactly 3am.

"Tempus Evanesco." He sighed, pointing his wand at the clock and watching as it disappeared from view.

The sudden absence of the glow from the clock rendered the shadows around him denser, somehow, than before. He felt restless. The dorm, filled with its beds and trunks and scattered belongings, seemed too confining. He needed to get out.

Resolute, he spelled the hangings around his four-poster open and swung his legs over the side. A swift rummage through his trunk rewarded him with his Invisibility Cloak. He knew it was not strictly necessary – at 3am, no-one would be awake to catch him out of bed, a prime reason as to why he wasn't bothering with the Marauder's Map as well – but he wanted the cloak anyway, just in case.

Besides, ever since he had received the cloak, way back in First Year, he'd taken any opportunity he could to use it. He liked the sensation of being invisible, of no one knowing where he was. It was the only time that ever happened, as during his days he was generally surrounded, and watched, by people, even his friends.

He loved his friends, he really did, but having at least one of them by his side at all times got wearisome after six years.

Harry dressed himself as quickly as he could, keeping quiet so as not to wake the others. The cloak lay on his bed, waiting patiently for him, as it always did.

Once he was decent, he reached for the cloak and fastened the long flow of silver over his shoulders. He paused for a moment, revelling in the comforting sensation of smooth, cool material, fitting snugly over his body. He looked down, seeing nothing but the floor where his body had been a moment ago. This never got old.

He slipped his wand into his pocket, and in moments had slipped from the room as smoothly as the cloak fastened around him.

HPDM

The long corridors were deserted, as he thought they would be. His faded joggers barely made a sound on the thick rugs littering the floor as he passed over them. A simple 'Lumos' upon leaving the common room meant he now held his wand aloft, the faint golden light guiding him as well as throwing into relief the paintings and portraits on the walls, giving them an oddly distorted appearance in the murky light.

He wandered aimlessly for a time, letting the light and the shadows and the endless corridors lull him into almost a trance, until his wand light revealed the smooth marble curve of the Grand Staircase banisters. He made his way down them slowly, taking his time, listening to the dull thud of his shoes on the marble. He never got to move through the castle like this. Usually it was rush, rush, rush, moving from one classroom to the next to the Great Hall and back again, smothered in warmth and light and noise…

But now, the room seemed prepared to let him take his time. It was strange, being alone in that dark, silent hall.

Harry reached the bottom of the staircase, watching the rays from his wand dance enticingly towards the huge double doors ahead of him.

Why not, Harry figured. He directed his steps straight ahead, pushing open the colossal oak doors slowly.

He breathed in the night air, relishing it. It was pleasant outside, a perfect temperature. A slight breeze flittered in from the Forest, cooling his face just the right amount. The moon, for the moment, was hidden with cloud, leaving everything in sight with a dull glow. Harry sighed in satisfaction as he set off down the stone steps to the great path below.

I might go to the rose gardens. He thought, turning to the right onto the darkened emerald grass as he did so. Two years ago, the gardens outside during the Yule Ball had been a huge hit. So much so, in fact, that Dumbledore had decided last year to make them a permanent fixture. Now, in a secluded section of the grounds, vast rose gardens could be found. There were fountains, benches, small patches of grass, all surrounded by fragrant, beautiful rose bushes.

It had become a popular alternative to the Astronomy Tower for the older students, with many a 5th, 6th or 7th year receiving detentions and losing house points since the inception of the gardens for practising unacceptable behaviour beyond curfew.

Harry knew he was safe, though. All the potential lovebirds would have fluttered off to bed by now, and the ever-prowling teachers with them. It was perfectly secluded, and perfectly safe.

He passed under the beautiful stone arc that stood as the entrance to the gardens, extinguishing the light from his wand as he did so. He did not need that intrusive light to appreciate the roses.

He wandered along the cobblestone path, pausing every now and then to admire a particularly lovely rose. He sensed that there was something about this night, this strange night. He felt calm, serene, light, patient. Wandering along, waiting for something. Waiting for what?

His answer came beyond a smaller arc, a fair way along from the larger entrance arc. Here, the roses were both blood red and purest white, contrasting each other magnificently against their background of inky green leaves.

The neat bushes ran around each other, colliding into the shape of a circle. The diameter of the cobblestone between the bushes at any given point was about four metres.

Closest to the top curve of the circle was a stone bench, which followed the curve of the bushes behind it. It was small; perhaps two metres end to end. It was made of a pale stone, though not as pale as the lily-white roses that framed it. The legs were intricately carved with swirls and loops in a pattern that reminded Harry of vines.

It was here, in this space, on this bench, Harry found him.

At first he thought it was a statue, that figure seated on the bench, for he sat so completely still he might have been a statue. He was seated, feet planted firmly on the stones, elbows resting on his knees, head buried into his hands. There was no sound, no movement, no nothing – just Harry, invisible on the other side of the circle, and the statue on the bench.

The clouds in the velvet sky above lazily began a sideways roll, allowing the silver moon to peek cautiously out from behind them.

This light slid over the scene slyly, like it had a plan for exactly how to do this. It revealed first the bushes. They looked lovelier than ever in the moonlight. Next came the bench, seeming to shine dully under the madam of the sky's rays. Finally, came him.

There was the skin, pale, alabaster skin. There were the robes; midnight-black and contrasting the skin, making it glow. There were the soft, icy blonde strands that Harry knew well.

The rose garden statue was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Before Harry had even had enough time to wonder just what, exactly, Draco Malfoy was doing in the rose gardens at 3am, he moved. The head rose from the hands, the arms moved to the sides, the head came up completely.

Harry very nearly gasped out loud, smothering the urge just in time.

Draco Malfoy had always been handsome. Harry knew this, as it took would take someone who was completely blind not to. His pale skin, silky hair and handsome features had made him the object of many girls' affections for years now.

But now, with sheets of moonlight spilling over him, Malfoy looked almost ethereal. His alabaster skin was glowing white, and the blonde hair on his head framed his face like a strange golden halo. It was his eyes, though, that caused Harry to feel unable to look away.

By day, Malfoy's eyes were a cool, steady grey, the colour of the lake just before a storm. But here, in this garden, his eyes were glowing pure silver, and they were not cool or steady at all. No, they were warm, and filled with tears.

This simple fact startled Harry more than he thought possible. Harry had known and fought with Malfoy for six long years, and not once in all that time had he ever seen Malfoy cry. Smirk, sneer, laughing with malice, yes. But crying? Never.

During the last year, their rivalry had been flourishing as well as ever. Malfoy still found opportunities to insult Harry and his friends, and to try and cause social humiliation for Harry. They'd even had several fist-fights in the corridors because of this, which usually ended with them, bruised and bleeding, being dragged to the hospital wing by a Professor and being given detentions and losing house points.

The interesting thing about these fights, Harry noted, was that whenever Malfoy had him pinned against the floor or the wall and was punching the living daylights out of him, there was a fire in his eyes beyond his normal appearance. A burning, an emotion Harry couldn't identify. It was far more powerful than hate, far more deep than loathing. Whatever it was, it was dangerous, and it was causing Malfoy to act far more rashly than he ever had before.

But this boy, sitting on the bench before him, was a far cry from the Malfoy he knew. Gone was the fire. Gone was the burning. All Harry could see was pale skin, soft hair, and eyes flowing like rain in the moonlight. And he was spellbound.

As he was standing there, staring at the rival he'd had for so long, Malfoy emitted a low, deep vibration from his throat. It took a moment to register in Harry's muddled brain that Malfoy was humming.

He hummed quietly, tunelessly it seemed, his eyes fixed on the roses vaguely to Harry's left. Harry watched, feeling a little like he was watching something he shouldn't be, but unable to look away.

"Oh." Malfoy sighed, his voice barely more than whisper on the breeze, but Harry heard him for the silence of the gardens.

He tilted his head back, glassy eyes reflecting the silvery stars in the skies above.

Harry watched, a sense of expectation filling him from head to toe. This new Malfoy was something he'd never experienced before. He wanted to know what he would do next.

Malfoy hummed again, low in his throat but with a tune this time. Harry listened, spellbound. The tune spoke of misery, of gut-deep misery, of pain, of confusion, of…love.

Malfoy suddenly straightened up, ceasing his humming. His eyes fixed back on to the roses, and Harry got the shock of his life when Malfoy began to sing.

"I can live during the day

Like nothing's going on

But I can't escape this tonight.

I can't escape this tonight."

He sang quietly, pain dripping from every word so obviously it was nearly visible. He had a good voice, harmonic, yet melancholy.

"My demons catching up with me

Dancing around my head

Reminding me of you.

And there's nothing I can do."

Malfoy's voice shook every now and then as he sang, crystal tears falling from pools of silver to splash on the cobblestone below.

"The dawn seems far away

and I call to the sky,

'Why is this happening to me?'

But no-one answers."

Harry found himself fighting the mad urge to move forward and comfort his rival, sitting broken on the bench, completely vulnerable and alone.

"So I'm sitting here, alone

I hate myself for this

Coz I'm in love, I'm in love

With you, tonight

And forever."

Harry sucked in a breath. He felt frozen to the spot, even though the air around him remained pleasantly warm.

Malfoy sucked in a breath as well now, shoulders shaking in silent sobs. He sat like that for a time, sobbing, broken on the beautiful stone bench, with Harry merely metres away, and yet too far away.

"Night brings my salvation

My haven, my safe place

But it helps me to remember

You don't love me."

His pale, slender hands were clutching the stone sides of the bench as though they were anchoring him, stopping him from letting go and floating away into oblivion.

"And it hurts so bad, love

Why does it hurt?

Love is meant to heal

Not carve into your heart."

Harry was crying now, tears sliding freely down his face, as he watched Malfoy – no, Draco – sing his pain to the gardens.

"Your eyes burn me

Your smile stabs me

Your laughter drowns me

You're killing me, my dear."

He was actually stepping forward now, hesitant, shaky steps on unstable legs, but stopped abruptly when Draco moved, eyes trailing upwards to the heavens. Harry could now see perfectly the stars mirrored in the silver orbs, could see the sheen of tears covering them.

"I want to throw myself to the sky

Offer myself to the heavens

So they can cluck their tongue and say,

'He's too far gone to save."

Draco moved his feet up to rest on the bench now, arms wrapping tight around his knees and chin resting on top of that in a gesture similar to how Harry had been positioned before, in the dorms.

"And I'm sitting here, alone

I hate myself for this

Coz I'm in love, I'm in love

With you, tonight

And forever."

There was a sense of finality to these words, and Harry knew Draco was finished. He no longer felt serene or light at all, and the sense of expectation he'd experienced earlier was completely gone, leaving him feeling confused, unsettled.

He knew no one was meant to have witnessed what had just happened, and by some bizarre coincidence, somehow, he just had. He knew Draco would absolutely pummel him if he knew Harry had been here, a witness to Draco's lament of unrequited love.

As much as he disliked Draco, because he did, the scene had left him feeling…odd. Even now, just looking at Draco, still huddled on the bench, a statue once more under the moonlight but for the occasionally shudder of his shoulders, gave him a strange feeling in his stomach. This strange night had ensured things had changed within him.

He cursed it silently, still watching Draco. He had just decided, albeit uncomfortably, that perhaps he should leave, when Draco spoke. Once more, the words were quiet; barely a whisper, and once more they were audible only due to the silent gardens surrounding the pair.

"Damn you, Potter." He whispered, eyes fixated on the roses. "Damn you for doing this to me."

He drew a deep, shaky breath.

"Damn you for making me love you."

That strange, warm late-May night. Harry hadn't been able to sleep. Something had brought him outside, made him see something he'd rather not see.

That strange, strange night.

It wasn't difficult to sense its repercussions would echo through their lives forever.

TBC

**AN: Well, what do you think? Just a little idea I thought up. Probably won't be any longer than 3, maybe 4 chapters. **

**The lyrics to the song Draco sung were written by me. Technically, it's more of a poem, but you can still sing it, anyway.**

**So, thanks for reading this, and please review and let me know if you liked it or not. I don't know if I'll bother continuing it if no one likes it. Bye!**

**bleedingxheart**


	2. The Reasoning

**There is always some madness in love. But there is also always some reason in madness. – Friedrich Nietzsche**

The Rose Garden – Chapter Two: The Reasoning

The morning dawned bright and warm. The golden orb of the sun peeked cautiously out over the hills and spilled its rays over the castle walls and the smooth slopes of the grounds. Within the castle, the students began to stir, arising from their beds to shower, dress, and prepare for breakfast.

The warmth was slowing spreading, seeping into the various dorms and common rooms of the castle. In the shadowed dungeons, however, warmth couldn't penetrate the cool, damp air.

In the 6th year Slytherin boy's dorm room, an alarm sounded from one of the elegant, darkly wooded beds. Blaise Zabini pulled back the long flows of green surrounding him, and drifted slowly to the dorms' adjoining bathroom.

This seemingly simple movement triggered a whole series of movements, as the figures of Crabbe, Goyle and Nott emerged from their subsequent beds and set about performing their morning tasks.

The curtains of their beds lay open, baring the sleeping spaces to the room at large. One bed's curtains, however, remained stubbornly closed. In the centre of the room rested a bed slightly larger and definitely more ornate than the others, and the visual absence of its occupant was conspicuous.

Blaise emerged from the bathroom, his hair lazily styled and his dark eyes alive with the glint of one who has woken up sufficiently to face the day ahead. He scanned his roommates quickly, and upon finding the familiar blonde head of hair missing, crossed the room to the still-occupied bed.

He reached out and tugged on the soft green velvet hangings. "Draco." He called softly. "You have to wake up."

There was no sound from within. With a resigned sigh, Blaise pulled open the curtains, and surveyed his friend.

The black silk of the sheets pooled around the central figure in the bed. Draco was lying flat on his back, hands resting behind his head, eyes staring unseeingly at the canopy above him.

"Draco?" Blaise questioned cautiously.

Draco turned his head, and eyed Blaise blankly.

Blaise took in the icy hair, the too-pale skin contrasting again the dark circles under the cool grey eyes. Draco didn't look very well.

"What did you say, Blaise?" Draco questioned quietly.

"I was telling you to get up." Blaise said, absently pulling the bed hangings open a little wider. "We have to go to breakfast soon."

"Right, of course." Draco murmured, shifting in his sheets and pulling himself out of bed. He headed for the bathroom, and Blaise watched him do so, thinking.

He was worried about Draco. He had been since the start of the school year. Something had changed with his friend. Whether it was due to his father's imprisonment the previous June, or the worries with his mother, or something else, no one knew. Whatever it was, Draco certainly wasn't about to tell them.

Sighing resignedly, Blaise went over to his bed, and began to dress. He reminded himself again, as he did so, that worrying about Draco would come to nothing but frustration, which would in turn lead to more worrying.

At that moment Draco wandered back into the room, having seemingly forgotten his shampoo before.

Blaise shook his head sadly. Things were not as they should have been with the Malfoy heir.

HPDM

Draco led the way down the stairs to the Common Room. In earlier years, this had always been a grand daily ritual, in which everyone present in the common room would turn and watch their entrance with varying degrees of awe and respect. All this year, and in the last month or so especially, something had been lacking in Draco's normally arrogant, calm stride. Nothing that could be pinpointed, of course, but something important enough to be noticeable in its absence.

Pansy, Millicent and Queenie were all awaiting their arrival, as always. They exchanged their usual muted greetings, Draco's being noticeably the most muted of the lot. Merging together seamlessly, they headed as one for the common room exit.

Again, Draco led them, with Pansy walking by his side. Following them came the bulking figures of Crabbe and Goyle, under the pretence of not being able to move without being near their leader. In reality, however, they formed a central point of defence for the group. Millicent and Queenie came next, talking quietly. Bringing up the rear was Blaise and Nott, also in discussion.

Pansy eyed her friend with apprehension out of the corner of her eye as they navigated the dungeons. Draco looked like it was taking a huge effort to put one foot in front of the other. The bags under his eyes were getting more obvious everyday. She wished, like she had so many times before, he would just tell them what was going on.

His personal state had been deteriorating that year, and it was only in the last month or so he'd really reached rock bottom. All his actions were quiet, listless, and automatic. He waved away their questioning gazes and mouths, instead throwing himself into his schoolwork everyday with a vigour that was now rivalling the Mudblood's. And every morning, every damn morning, he'd wake with those dark circles underlining the cool grey eyes. Clearly, something was wrong. Something was stopping him from sleeping well at nights.

Their best guess so far had been in relation to the turmoil rumoured to be swirling in the Malfoy household. Whenever they'd hinted at this, however, Draco had essentially ignored their questions.

It was completely frustrating, and Pansy hated the whole situation with a passion.

She decided, as they slowly began their ascension to the higher levels of the castle, that she should perhaps take a stab at conversation with him.

"So, Draco," she began, "how'd you sleep?"

Draco made a low, non-committal noise in the back of his throat. "As good as I'm going to get, I suppose." He answered in a monotone.

Pansy cursed silently in frustration, before deciding to switch tacts.

"If that's so, why have you got those bags under your eyes?" she questioned.

Draco was silent for a moment before he answered her. "I've gone over this with you before. It's nothing. I'm fine. Drop the subject."

Pansy sighed, her vague hopes of an admittance of problems vanishing like a well-placed Evanesco. "If you wish it." Was all she said, however, and the pair then fell into silence.

The group arrived in the Entrance Hall, and headed for the double-door entrance to the Great Hall opposite. Their feet hit the stones below with muted thuds as Pansy opened the doors for them all. They filed in quietly, and headed for the Slytherin table on the far left.

Their customary seats were empty, as expected, and they promptly sat down, acknowledging the younger students around them. Draco sat in the centre on the side closest to the wall, flanked by Pansy and Blaise.

Breakfast had been proceeding smoothly for about 10 minutes or so when the doors opened once more, and the loud group of 6th year Gryffindors walked in. Among them was Potter, not leading them like usual, but skulking around the back.

The bags under his eyes were visible from even the Slytherin table. Around him, his friends went on eating and conversing, but Draco had eyes for none but the green-eyed Gryffindor.

They went to their table and sat down, still laughing and talking and joking, and with Potter still subdued. Draco saw Granger's gaze flicker between the shenanigans and Potter, a concerned expression on her face. Draco wondered what was going on. He guessed he couldn't blame Granger – Potter looked exhausted.

In fact, he looked similar to how Draco knew he himself looked. Although why Potter wouldn't have got enough sleep, Draco didn't know. All he knew was that he hadn't had a proper night sleep in about a month, for reasons his friends were endlessly attempting to discover and which he knew he would never, ever tell anyone.

Last year, after the problems at the ministry and the arrest of his father, Draco had been forced to do some serious thinking during the summer. The conclusions he'd arrived at had been disturbing and unsettling.

The first one had been the idea that maybe his father was not so perfect after all. Lucius had always told him that their side would be the winning side, but seeing the Dark Lord defeated and his father in Azkaban had made Draco question whether this was actually true.

Another thing had been his mother. During Lucius's absence, she had gone from being the coolly distant woman he'd known for so long to an intelligent, articulate, elegant lady, who showed her love for him openly. This in itself had been downright frightening for him – he had never been shown that kind of thing before, and he had no idea to respond to it. He'd tried, he really had, but it had been too difficult. And that, the lack of knowledge about general love and intimacy, had shaken him to the core.

So with these things, he'd been thinking about himself and his life and his relationships with other people. About his friends. His initial thoughts had been, _'Well, I am rather fond of them.' _This had made him realise that a real friendship should be based on more than just 'fondness.' He'd been disgusted with himself, and thus tried to picture what a real friendship was.

The disturbing answer had been the relationships between Potter and his little Gryffindor buddies. The love, care and loyalty they proudly displayed day in and day out for each other.

This, of course, had led to thinking about Potter, and how much he _hated _the stupid wonder boy. So much, in fact, that he'd then been unable to think of anything but Potter.

Long story short, once they were back at school and Draco was seeing Potter everyday, something…weird, began to happen. Draco began to look forward to the classes he had with Potter more than any others. He began trying to antagonise Potter even more so than usual, in an attempt to be around him more. And on it went, and on, and on, until the Christmas holidays, when he had arrived at the biggest, most disturbing, horrifying conclusion thus far.

It had been a few days after New Year. That strange day was still embedded in Draco's mind. He'd stayed at Hogwarts in the first place because his mother had sent word she'd be busy fixing up the manor. All of his friends had gone home. He'd been alone in the dorms since before Christmas.

That night at dinner, he'd taken his usual seat and was eating like always when Potter and his friends had come in. Draco had watched them, glowering silently. Stupid Potter with his stupid friendships and his stupid optimistic outlook even though Draco had been doing his best to make him see how stupid his stupid life was.

The Hall was nearly empty, on that strange night. Only a few students were scattered around each of the four tables, either sitting by themselves or in small groups. There was no one else to watch, and Draco hadn't wanted to watch anyone else anyway. All his focus was on Potter.

It was while he was watching Potter, angry thoughts running through his head, that Draco came to that horrible, horrible conclusion, that strange night.

There was Potter, laughing at something Weasley was saying. His eyes lit up, his hair messy, a wide grin on his face. And something, somewhere, deep inside Draco, skittered.

Unused to the sensation, Draco had continued to watch Potter, trying to work out what was going on. The skittering feeling persisted, turning into a feeling of warmth, which clawed into his belly and settled there. His cheeks felt warm too. Weasley said something else, and Potter laughed again, and Draco's heart skipped a beat.

That strange night, he realised something.

He was in love with Potter.

HPDM

Draco was now accustomed to the burning feeling in his chest whenever he saw Potter. The feelings had gotten stronger and stronger, until about a month ago, Draco felt like he would rather die than experience this anymore. It turned out it was quite painful, this unrequited love business. Had he known that, he would've treated the various approaches from suitors over the years with a bit more care, but it was too late now.

He watched Potter listlessly cutting up his pancakes. God, he hated daytime. He had to try, at least, to act like things were normal during the day. Not many people seemed to notice anything was different. But, his friends knew him the best, and they were not fooled. They knew something was wrong. However, they thought it was all to do with his parents.

How wrong they were.

Draco reflected on the previous day, when another confrontation between himself and Potter had resulted in yet another fight. The way Potter had basically tackled him to the ground. The way those green eyes burned when he was truly angry. The feeling of Potter basically straddling him.

Draco shivered. He missed it. He wanted it. He craved it. He _needed _it.

A lucky thing was that Potter was among those who didn't know anything was different. This, in part, was due to Draco's marvellous acting and pretending skills. He kept up appearances, harassing Potter and his friends, fighting with him. Potter didn't know how much he loved, and hated, their fights. Whenever he wasn't fighting with Potter, he was completely throwing himself into his schoolwork.

There was one place, though, that Draco could find a refuge from all this. About a month ago, he'd discovered the joys of the rose gardens. Ever since, every night at an absurd time like 3 in the morning, he would go to them, sit, and sing his pain to the silence. It couldn't hear him. It didn't judge him for it. It let him love, openly, the way he would never be able to anywhere else.

It was taking a toll on his appearance, but he would've lost his sanity a long time ago without that rose garden there.

Potter looked up, directly at him. Draco's heart completely froze. He felt like a deer caught in headlights, as those green eyes stared into his own. It was difficult to tell what Potter was thinking, although Draco could guess if he tried. He was tired. That much was obvious. He was…confused, maybe, by the slight tilt in his head. Confused by what, though?

The answer was equally confusing, once Draco realised it. Potter was confused by him.

Draco had so many questions, and no answers to any of them. There was nothing he could do, though, but get through the day.

Then that night, he could retreat to his rose garden, and sing.

And the world would fall away again.

_TBC_

**AN: Wow. I'm quite surprised at the response I've been getting for this fic. Thank you to the people who reviewed the first chapter.**

**It's a bit short, yes, but it hopefully made Draco's perspective in all of this a little bit clearer. If you've got any questions, feel free to ask them in a review, I'll do my best to answer them.**

**See ya next time!**

**bleedingxheart**


	3. Sway

**'The first duty of love is to listen.' – Paul Tillich**

The Rose Garden – Chapter Three: Sway

It was strange, Harry mused, that he was completely surrounded by people, and yet felt alone. To his knowledge, that wasn't really considered normal. By it's very definition, alone meant being singular, isolated.

But, he was in the company of many people, and still, alone.

He watched his friends laughing, feeling very detached from them. He'd felt detached from them all day, really. Through all the meals and classes and breaks. They weren't stupid. They knew something was up. But, being his friends, they were willing to go along with him, and wait until he was ready. Because that was just the way they were.

He felt, rather than saw, Hermione's gaze flickering on and off him. He dared not to meet it, though, because he knew she had a talent for causing people to confess all their grievances with just a single look.

He focused on the parchment in front of him. It was also strange that when one is completely and totally lost in thoughts of one subject, doing a separate activity at the same time becomes second nature. He'd been writing this essay for at least the last hour and yet he was sure he wouldn't be able to tell anyone a single word he'd written, if asked.

It wasn't like Harry to be like this. Generally, he was, while not quite ecstatically happy, at least moderately content, most of the time.

But he guessed his behaviour did have a good excuse. It's not every night you innocently go to a rose garden, find your archrival, hear archrival sing in an unsettlingly beautiful way and then find out said archrival is in love with you. He surmised that would fit into the category of 'Good excuses to not act like yourself.'

Basically, Harry had no idea how to approach this situation. No one he'd ever known had ever been in anything like it before.

'_What the hell am I meant to do?' _he'd groaned to himself more than once that day. Frustratingly, the only answer his inner voice had for that was silence.

Quite suddenly, he came back into the goings on around him like he'd been unexpectedly dropped into a pool of water. He blinked, wondering as his friends' voices became more than hums in the background.

Hermione was talking seriously to Neville. Harry listened to their conversation for a moment.

"I just don't know, Hermione." Neville was saying, looking anxious as he worried his lip.

Hermione gave him a patient smile. "From everything you've just told me, it sounds like she feels something for you." She said kindly.

"But I don't even know how I feel about her!" Neville said in frustration.

"Well, answer me this." Hermione said. "Do you think about her?"

"All the time." Neville said fervently.

"Do you not feel like yourself around her?"

"Yes. I forget who I am." Neville admitted embarrassedly.

"Can you picture yourself being happy with her?"

"Yes, of course."

"There's your answer." Hermione concluded. She smiled kindly at him again. "It sounds to me like you're falling in love with her."

"F…falling in love?" Neville stammered, thunderstruck.

"Falling in love." Confirmed Hermione.

"But that's…that's huge, that's so…"

"True?" suggested Hermione. "Admit it, Nev, now you've heard it put in a different way, it sounds close to the truth, doesn't it?"

"Well…yes." Neville admitted quietly.

Hermione smiled at him. "You'll be fine, Nev." She reassured him. "You just need to take that step. It's scary, I know, but it's worth it once it's been taken." She glanced lovingly over to where Ron was. "Believe me, I know."

Neville chewed his lip again, clearly thinking hard. "You're right, Hermione." He said finally, nodding in resolution. "I have to take that step. I'll talk to her tomorrow."

"I'm so proud of you, Nev." She said happily, now hugging him. "It'll work out, I just know it."

Harry watched this resolution from the other side of the room, stunned. He'd always known Hermione was skilled with resolving other people's issues with friends, crushes and loves, but he hadn't really seen it so clearly before.

'_Maybe it would be worth asking her advice.' _He mused, watching as Neville turned back to his own essay, looking infinitely happier. _'Not the whole story, of course, just the gist of it.'_

Maybe.

HPDM

Several hours later, it was 11:30 and nearly all of Harry's friends had retired to the dorms for the evening. The only people left were Harry, Ron and Hermione.

Ron was hunched over his essay, scribbling frantically. He gave a sudden shout of triumph as he threw his quill down with a dramatic flourish.

"Done!" he cried happily.

Hermione looked over to him, amused. "Finished, Ron?"

"You bet ya." Ron answered jubilantly, now rolling up the parchment. "No more writing on the properties of bacteria-dispelling potions. I am done, and I am going to bed."

He swept his things into his bag and hopped up. "Coming, Harry?" he asked.

Harry made a distracted noise, still writing at the table. "Later." He said vaguely, frowning slightly at the parchment in front of him, not even looking up.

"Alright then. Goodnight, mate." Ron said, and leaned over and kissed Hermione's forehead. "Night, 'Mione."

"Goodnight, Ron." She smiled warmly at her boyfriend. He grinned back and headed towards the stairs leading to the dorms.

Silence descended over the pair. Harry scratched away on his parchment, while Hermione pretended to read, sneakily stealing glances at her friend as she did so.

'_Just tell her.' _Harry urged himself. _'It'll seem easier with another perspective on it.'_

"Her…Hermione?" Harry asked, clearing his throat to try and get rid of the croakiness.

Hermione looked up. "Yes, Harry?"

"I…I need to talk to you about something. If that's alright." He added hastily.

'_Finally.' _Hermione thought to herself, but she merely nodded and smiled at him.

"Of course, Harry. You can tell me anything, you know that." She assured him.

"I know." Harry said, albeit slightly nervously. He set down his quill and clasped his hands in his lap.

"What's it got to do with?" she asked curiously.

"Well…it's kind of about…um…love." Harry said, his cheeks flushing as he said it.

Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked at him with surprise. "Love? What about it?"

"It's not an admission that _I'm _in love with someone, or anything like that, if that's what you were thinking." He said quickly. "Because I'm not."

"Alright…so then, it's about…?" Hermione queried.

Harry looked uncomfortable. "Er…kind of that someone's in love with…um…me." He immediately began studying his clasped hands, determined not to meet her gaze.

"Someone's in love with you?" she repeated, looking confused. "Well, that's a good thing, isn't it?"

"You'd think so, but…no. Not really." Harry said miserably.

"Why not?"

"Well, the…person, who is in love with me, isn't really someone who ideally would be…you know, in love…with me."

It was just like Harry, Hermione mused, to be so self-deprecating and insecure that he could barely even say that someone was in love with him.

"So someone's in love with you who probably shouldn't be?" she asked.

"Essentially, yes." He replied.

"I see. How do you know? How did you find out?" she asked.

Harry hesitated. Here, he would really have to stretch the truth. "I…overheard them talking." He said carefully. "To themselves. They said they loved me…like, they actually said my name."

"Oh." Hermione said, looking thoughtful. "Well, that changes things." She paused, looking hesitant. "Are you going to give me any hints as to who it is?"

"No!" Harry exclaimed. "I mean…no.," he repeated, more quietly. "I can't. I don't want anyone to know. I just…need your advice about what to do."

"Well…" Hermione said slowly, "the most obvious question is, do you love this person back?"

Harry hesitated, and then wanted to kick himself for hesitating. "No, I don't."

Hermione considered. "Do you think you could love this person, if given the right opportunities?"

Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it again. Now _that _was an interesting question.

The problem was, he had no idea what the answer was.

The Draco Malfoy he'd seen that strange night had been completely different to the Draco Malfoy he knew. It had shaken all his notions of the world to the core. It seemed like anything was possible, if Draco Malfoy sat in rose gardens at 3am, singing about how much he was in love with Harry.

So, he decided to answer Hermione honestly. "I really, truly have no idea, Hermione." He said. "I just don't know."

Hermione looked sorry. "Well, until you figure it out, Harry, I don't think there's anything I can tell you."

Harry nodded grimly.

"Well, thank you for telling me about this. I know it must've been difficult, Harry." She said gently. "Don't hesitate to talk to me when you've figured things out a little more, OK?"

"OK." Harry said.

"I think I'm going to go to bed now, so I'll see you tomorrow, alright?" Hermione said.

"Alright. Goodnight, 'Mione." He did his best to smile back at her before she left for the girls' dorm, leaving him alone near the fireplace.

HPDM

It was about an hour and a half later, approaching 1am, and Harry was still sitting in the common room. Any students that had been in the room when his friends were there had long since gone to bed. Harry had finished his essay around midnight, and had been sitting in his armchair, watching the flames die down slowly, and debating with himself for at least an hour.

To return to the rose garden, or not to return to the rose garden.

He'd been weighing up the pros and cons, trying to determine which option was the most beneficial for him. Each side had its advantages and disadvantages, of course. If he went back, he might get more insight into the situation and thus possibly make some kind of sense of his confused feelings.

On the other hand, going back could mean he returned even more confused than he was now. There was also the chance that Draco wouldn't even be there, in which case he would just feel frustrated.

A clock struck 1am, chiming dully throughout the common room. It felt almost like a summons. The clock echoed in Harry's brain, urging him. It wasn't a question, or even a possibility. It was a command.

_Go._

And, powerless against this unknown force, Harry had no choice but to obey.

HPDM

It was completely different this time around, walking the halls and corridors of Hogwarts in the middle of the night. Like before, there were no students or teachers to be seen, everyone being in bed. But something about it was different.

Perhaps it was that last time, he'd been walking without a clear purpose in mind. He'd let his feet take him where they wished.

'_And look how that turned out.' _He scowled to himself, as he walked down yet another flight of stairs.

It seemed odd, now he reflected on it, that he had even gone to the rose gardens in the first place. From memory, something had just compelled him to go there. But what?

He felt like the whole world seemed to know what was going on here, and he'd been left out of it.

He reached the Grand Staircase and began his descent, the dull thud of his shoes on the marble giving him an acute sense of déjà vu.

Harry spared the huge hourglasses near the massive front doors a glance as he approached them. Slytherin was in the lead by 20 points.

'_Damn Slytherins.' _He thought with more venom than usual as he stepped outside into the night air.

Shivering slightly, he pulled the silky folds of his Invisibility Cloak a little closer around him. It wasn't cold, being late May. It was more that the night seemed to have a distinct purpose for him. He could sense it, like the grass and the trees and the stars above him all knew exactly what would happen, and why.

Overall, it wasn't exactly a settling feeling.

The grass swayed gently beneath him in a slight breeze as he set out purposefully for the rose gardens.

There was the arc, the beautifully carved arc. There was the path, the long, sweeping cobblestone path. There were the roses, splashes of colour amongst their darkened backdrops.

He felt impatient. He felt confused. He was looking for something. Looking for what?

Looking for him.

He was there, just like Harry had hoped. Sitting like a statue once more on the beautiful stone bench, eyes fixed on the roses.

Harry approached silently, and then sat down, right in the middle of the path. He would sit, and he would watch, for as long as it took, whatever 'it' was, anyway.

The moon was blazing clearly in the sky above, leaving no doubt in Harry's mind the boy before him was human. Instinctively, at least, Harry knew he was human. The visuals he was getting suggested otherwise. For what human had such ethereally alabaster skin? What kind of human had such a fine crown of white-blonde hair? Was there a human alive with mercury eyes like the ones that were currently staring into the bushes?

No human Harry had ever known of, anyway.

Draco looked the same, but he looked different. He looked sad, he looked withdrawn, he looked vulnerable, he looked…

'_Beautiful.' _Harry's mind whispered in awe, as he stared, captivated, at the boy on the bench.

Draco hummed low in his throat, the sound stabbing into Harry like knives. It was a lot more difficult, this time around, listening and knowing he was the cause of that haunting misery, so clear in the tune and the rhythm.

'_Please don't sing.' _He begged his supposed rival silently. _'I don't think I'll be able to handle it if you sing.'_

But of course, being the place it was, under those mystifying stars, amongst the beautiful roses, on that strange night, the world had other plans.

"Don't stray  
Don't ever go away  
I should be much too smart for this  
You know it gets the better of me  
Sometimes, when you and I collide."

Harry listened, spellbound and insanely guilty. The words coming from Draco's mouth were heart wrenching.

"I fall into an ocean of you.  
Pull me out in time,  
Don't let me drown.  
Let me down.  
I say it's all because of you."

'_Are you trying to guilt me into liking him?' _Harry cursed the sky. _'Because it's not working, dammit!'_

"And here I go,  
Losing my control.  
I'm practising your name  
So I can say it to your face  
It doesn't seem right  
To look you in the eye  
And let all the things you mean to me  
Come tumbling out my mouth,  
Indeed, it's time.'

'_It's not working.' _Harry repeated silently, desperately.

"I'm telling you why,  
I say it's infinitely true.  
Say you'll stay,  
Don't come and go,  
Like you do.  
Sway my way  
Yeah, I need to know  
All about you."

His voice cut off, interrupted by a dry sob from that pale throat. Harry winced at the sound. Evidently, Draco was determined not to actually cry tonight.

"There's no cure  
No way to be sure  
Why everything's turned inside out  
Instilling so much doubt  
It makes me so tired  
I feel so uninspired."

Harry marvelled inwardly at the fact that he was most likely the only person to have ever witnessed this version of Draco Malfoy. This vulnerable, beautiful, miserable Draco Malfoy.

_The Draco Malfoy who's in love with you.' _His mind reminded him snidely, which was accompanied with another sickening twist of guilt in his gut.

"My head is battling with my heart.  
My logic has been torn apart,  
And now, it all turns sour  
Come sweeten every afternoon."

Each word felt like it was carving itself into Harry's brain, preparing to serve a permanent reminder that this pain he was hearing and witnessing was caused by him.

"Say you'll stay.  
Don't come and go,  
Like you do.  
Sway my way  
Yeah, I need to know all about you.  
It's all because of you.  
It's all because of you."

'_No, it isn't!' _Harry protested weakly, silently. _'Had I known, I would've approached the situation differently!'_

"Now it all turns sour.  
Come sweeten every afternoon.  
It's time,  
I'm telling you why  
I say it's infinitely true."

Draco drew a breath, composing himself. Seemingly, they had reached the grand finale of the song.

"Say you'll stay  
Don't come and go  
Like you do.  
Sway my way  
Yeah, I need to know all about you."

His voice seemed like it was getting louder and stronger with each word. Ordinarily, that would be considered a good thing, but unfortunately for Harry, the pain and love in Draco's voice was getting clearer and clearer with each word too.

"Say you'll stay  
Don't come and go  
Like you do.  
Sway my way  
Yeah I need to know all about you."

His voice suddenly dropped down to a whisper, barely discernable in it's volume, and yet Harry heard each individual word like they were being shouted into his ear.

"It's all because of you.  
It's all because of you.  
It's _all _because of you."

Silence reigned over the garden after Draco had finished. The roses seemed bigger, somehow, like they had absorbed Draco's pain like sponges would have.

Harry sat, frozen to the spot, a million thoughts rushing through his head.

_'He loves me. He really, truly loves me.'_

_'But he's such a git!'_

'_Maybe that's because he always felt obligated to be.' _

'But I don't feel the same way!'

'_Sure about that?'_

Harry's internal dialogue silenced at this, leaving him as still as any statue that could be found around them.

"It's all because of you." Draco murmured again, sadly, almost to himself.

Harry didn't need telling twice.

_TBC_

**AN: Well, first of all, the song Draco sang is 'Sway' by Bic Runga, so it belongs completely to them. It's also one of the more beautiful songs ever written, in my opinion. I strongly recommend listening to it whilst reading that rose garden scene. It nearly brought me to tears, and I wrote the damn thing. :\**

**So! Not much to say, really. Just a thank you to those who reviewed Chapter 2, and a request to please consider reviewing this chapter. Reviews make the world happy. Or more specifically, me, I guess. Whatever. shifty eyes**

**Well, thank you for reading and please review. See you next time!**

**bleedingxheart**


	4. Harry's Answer

**'Sometimes the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.' – H. Jackson Brown Jr.**

The Rose Garden – Chapter Four: Harry's Answer

In those few moments between when we wake up and when we are truly conscious, the mind can be extremely blurry and vague.

Draco's mind, it turned out, was no exception. He was groggy, still half-asleep, when the sound of Blaise's voice beyond his curtains sliced through his state. It soon became apparent Blaise was talking to Theo, and thus was not directly beside Draco's bed, full of questions.

This was a great relief to Draco, who had endured this side of Blaise many times in recent mornings, and especially in the last month or so.

Draco got up and staggered with as much dignity and poise as he could muster to the bathroom, shutting and locking the door behind him. He moved to the sink, smoothly carved from dark stone. He turned the tap shaped like a snake's head, and splashed some of the icy water that poured from its mouth onto his face. This being done, he examined his reflection in the mirror.

Draco had always been handsome. When he was a young boy, his mother's friends had always told his mother what a handsome man he would make some day. He'd earned more crushes and unrequited love from the other students since his arrival at Hogwarts than nearly everyone, Harry Potter excluded. All of this, based solely on his appearance. Did any of them care that he acted like an asshole? Simple answer, no. They didn't. He was attractive, and thus they adored him from afar.

Ever since he'd discovered the rose garden, his appearance had been deteriorating. The bags under his eyes were a dark blue-ish, purple-ish shade now from lack of sleep. He was paler than usual, and Merlin knew he was skinnier than usual from his recent trend of eating less. His hair remained fabulous, as it always did, but it couldn't take away from the dull expression that now lived permanently in his eyes. He looked empty. He felt empty.

Draco examined himself, and considered. '_So this is what love does to you._'

He'd gone to the rose garden again last night. He couldn't help it. His feelings towards it were complicated. On one hand, it was his refuge, his solace, his safe haven, and his peace. On the other, it had become the symbolic home of his pain. His destruction. His undoing. His misery.

He loved his rose garden, and he hated his rose garden. Most likely, he always would.

Draco reflected briefly about last night's visit. The rose garden always provided a mystical, silent and beautiful backdrop for his pain, but last night it had all seemed different, somehow. Something about the way the breeze whispered, the roses murmuring, the stars winking at him. The usually silent rose garden had seemed filled with voices other than his own. Absurdly, it almost had felt like they were trying to tell him something, but what, Draco didn't know. He'd gone ahead, singing the words that seemed right.

It was all he could do, anyway.

Draco showered quickly, hating as he always did the way the water erased the scent of roses that hovered around him after his visits to the garden. He dressed quickly as well, careful now not to catch a glimpse of himself in any mirrors.

He didn't want to see himself anymore.

Hell, he didn't want to be himself anymore.

He unlocked the bathroom door and exited, a soft whoosh of steam preceding him out the door. His friends glanced up, Blaise's concerned eyes finding him before the others. Draco nodded absently towards them all, moving to his bed for final preparations before they departed for breakfast.

Breakfast, where Harry would be.

Feeling his heart freeze up, Draco smiled a little ruefully.

'_So this is what love does to you.' _He thought once more.

HPDM

"Hey, 'Mione." Ron greeted, smiling at her. "Sleep alright?"

"Fine, thank you Ron." She replied, smiling back. Seamus, Dean and Neville walked past, calling cheerful greetings to them as they did so.

Hermione turned to Ron, frowning. "Where's Harry?"

"Oh, right, I forgot." Ron said. "Harry said he isn't feeling very well this morning, so he's going to skip breakfast today. I told him to make sure he eats lunch, at any rate. Hey!" He protested as Hermione moved to the staircase leading to the boys' dorms. "Where are you going? He's genuinely sick, you know, I'm not lying or anything."

"I know you aren't, Ron." Hermione soothed as she turned back around. "I trust you. I just want to see him for myself and make sure he's alright. You go on and go to breakfast, I'll see you there soon. OK?"

"Alright." Ron conceded. "See you later."

"See you later."

He turned and moved towards the portrait hole, while Hermione turned and headed up the stairs, thinking hard.

'Sick' might be an excuse Ron bought easily, but Hermione didn't. Harry had been perfectly healthy, albeit a tad distressed, when she had spoken to him last night. Something else had obviously happened, and for whatever reason, he didn't feel like facing anybody.

Well, if there was one thing Hermione was an expert at, it was finding out the reasons behind people's behaviour.

With this in mind, she knocked on the 6th year boys' dorm door a little harder than she'd originally meant to.

"Harry?" she called. "It's me. I'm coming in, OK? I just want to talk to you for a moment."

She opened the door and peered in. The room was as it always was - a complete and total mess, with clothing, books, parchment, you name it, strewn everywhere.

Harry was sitting in his bed, hands around his knees, wrapped in his quilt. Hermione noticed straight away how pale he looked. His gaze flicked from the wall to her.

"Hey, Hermione." He said quietly.

"Hi, Harry." She said softly, moving to sit beside him on the bed. "Ron said you weren't feeling well. I just wanted to check on you, and make sure you're OK. It's not often you miss breakfast."

"I know." Harry said.

"Also, I wanted to ask you…" she paused, feeling hesitant. "Does this sickness have anything to do with that situation you were telling me about last night?"

Harry was quiet for a moment. "Yes." He answered, finally.

Hermione exhaled, moving her legs so she was sitting cross-legged. "I see." She said, and looked to him. "Do you want to talk about it?"

An even longer silence. "Yes."

Hermione waited.

Harry sighed, absently tracing a pattern on his knee. "I'm not really sure how to tell you this…or even if I should be." He paused. "I want to, though. I'm confused."

"Just start at the beginning." Hermione soothed.

"Well, I guess the first thing to tell you is the person is a guy." Harry said.

Luckily, this barely seemed to even register with Hermione, who merely nodded. "OK."

"Secondly, the place where I overheard him talking the first night was the rose garden."

Hermione looked surprised. "The rose garden? What were you doing in the rose garden?"

"Couldn't sleep." Harry stated, retelling it the way he'd surmised in his head many times previously. "I felt like going for a walk, so I did. Going to the rose garden seemed right…so I did. I found him there, and I was there long enough to overhear…well, you know."

"That he loves you." Hermione said.

"Well, yeah."

"So is this about that night, just delayed a bit?"

"Not quite, no." Harry said. "I went back last night."

Hermione studied him, nodding slowly. "I see. It affected you, didn't it?"

"Yes."

"Do you think you can try and tell me what happened?"

Harry closed his eyes briefly, trying to find the words. "I don't…it's difficult. I didn't tell you another detail about these things."

Hermione raised an eyebrow at him. "Well?"

"Um…it's not so much that he was talking to himself. You see, he kind of…sings."

"Sings? As in, la la la, song kind of singing?"

"Yes." Harry confirmed, and his eyes softened briefly. "He has a beautiful voice."

Hermione studied him, smiling softly. "Does he?"

"Yes." Harry said, averting his eyes. "Hermione, I can hear in his voice exactly how much he loves me, it's like it's a tangible thing. I can hear how much pain he's in because of me."

"Harry." Hermione said soothingly, "it's not your fault that he's in love with you, you haven't done anything wrong."

"I know, but I just feel…it's scaring me." Harry said, trying hard to articulate himself. "I don't know what to do."

"Well, that's fair enough, Harry, finding out the depth of someone's feelings for you is always a scary experience." Hermione reasoned. "Especially if you weren't aware they had any in the first place."

Harry nodded blankly.

Hermione hesitated before asking her next question. "Do you think you could tell me who it is?"

Harry blanched, but Hermione hurried on, "No, stop, listen to me. Obviously, there is something about this situation you're in that you're not telling me which is crucial to figuring out how to solve it, and I can't help you if I don't know of it."

Harry was quiet. Hermione was right, of course, but how could he admit it, how could he explain it?

"Hey." Hermione reached over and rubbed his shoulder comfortingly. "Look, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just realise I could probably help you a lot more if you did."

It was enough. Here was Hermione, his friend for the last six years, and as good as an advice giver as there ever was. If she couldn't understand, no-one would. It was worth a shot.

"Alright, alright." Harry conceded. "Just warning you, once you know who it is, you'll realise exactly why I'm so distressed about it."

"I know."

"OK." Harry took a deep breath.

"It's Malfoy."

"Malfoy?!"

"Shhhh!" Harry admonished desperately. "Merlin, you're lucky everyone's at breakfast!"

"Malfoy." Hermione repeated, staring at Harry disbelievingly. "Malfoy. In love with you. _Malfoy._"

Harry said nothing, instead choosing to let it sink in.

"But that's impossible…" Hermione said faintly. "He picked a fight with you only a few days ago! He hates you!"

"And those few days ago, I would've said the same thing." Harry said quietly. "But there's no doubt about it, 'Mione. I've never heard anything like it when he sings. He definitely wouldn't be singing if he knew I was there. It's genuine."

Hermione stared at Harry for a moment, her eyes wide with amazement. "Malfoy's in love with you. And he sits in the rose garden late at night. Singing about it."

"Right in one." Harry said dully.

"I see." Hermione considered this. "I'm starting to see why you're bedridden, Harry."

"Yeah." He said, secretly wondering whether or not he should tell Hermione the main reason why he had wanted to stay in bed this morning.

"Do you still feel sick?"

"No, not really."

"Well, maybe you could come down to breakfast now."

"No!" Harry said, so quickly that Hermione began to eye him suspiciously. "I mean…no, Hermione, I don't think I should. I'm not feeling that much better."

"But you just said…"

"I know, but I just think it would be best if…"

"Harry James Potter." Hermione said, in as stern of a voice as Harry had ever heard her use. Wincing inwardly, he looked to her.

"Are you trying to hide from something?"

"Um…no." he lied.

"Yes you are." She said, eyeing him. "You're not as sick as you claim, because you want to hide from something, or someone."

"That's not true!"

"Oh yes it is." She said conclusively. She sighed. "Well, come on then, out with it. Tell me about it, and I promise I'll try and help you fix it."

"I can't…" Harry protested weakly.

"Yes you can, Harry." She said, more gently than before. "Listen to me. It's me. I know you've been through hell and back in your life, and I've been there with you every step of the way. I'm not going to back away now. I want to help you."

Harry was quiet for a few moments, eyes staring blankly at the wall opposite.

"Alright, I'll tell you." He said finally, turning to face her. "But I don't want you to tell Ron or anybody. And I can't promise you'll really understand what I'm talking about."

She waved a hand. "It's fine, Harry."

"OK. Well." He paused, gathering his thoughts.

"Before all this happened I never would've believed Malfoy even had a heart, let alone that he used it to love other people. But hearing him the last few nights, hearing his pain, _seeing _his pain, now I know that he in fact does have a heart…and he's using it to love me."

Hermione nodded, and Harry continued.

"The first time, obviously, I was in shock and wasn't quite mentally able to deal with what was going on, but going back last night made it even more real to me." He paused, searching for a way to phrase his next words. "It was made worse by remembering the question you asked me…about whether I think I'll ever be able to love him."

Hermione's eyes widened with the sudden realisation of what was really going on here.

"See, Malfoy's always been such a bastard, to you, to Ron, to me. I hated him when I was younger, I know I did, and while lately the hatred has never been as strong, there's still animosity; there's still dislike. But…knowing now about…what he feels for me, kind of puts it in perspective…I mean, it can't have just happened that quickly. He must have nursed this for a long time, maybe not in it's current form, but still…"

"It's always been about you two." Hermione said quietly. "Always, ever since first year, the school has practically revolved around your rivalry."

"Yes. So I was thinking about all that, and a whole lot of other stuff last night, when I came back from the rose garden. The thing is, which has been bugging me, is when I recall actually being at the garden, seeing him, and hearing him sing…" Harry trailed off, gathering himself. "I remember the sense I felt that there was nowhere else in the world I was meant to be…that someone, somewhere, had set it all up to ensure I was there with him."

"Like fate." Hermione said.

"Yeah, kind of like fate…but more…magical. More special. More real."

"So what does that all mean?"

"I'm getting there, 'Mione." Harry said tiredly. "I'm not even sure about it now, when it's morning and everything, but last night when all this was going through my head, and I remembered what you asked me, I…I realised the answer."

"Which was what?" Hermione asked gently.

Harry sucked in a breath, and let it out slowly. "I realised the answer, as to whether I think I ever could love him, was yes. I could. And Merlin, that scared me more than anything ever has in my life. 'Mione, we're meant to hate each other." His voice changed, sounding desperate, anxious. "I'm Gryffindor, he's Slytherin. We're meant to hate each other. But then he goes and falls in love with me, and suddenly I realise that, as scary as it is, doesn't make me want to laugh at him or use it against him. I want to love him back."

Hermione was quiet, so Harry continued.

"And that simple thing is the reason why I woke up feeling a little queasy. It's why I don't want to go to breakfast, because I don't think I can let myself see him. I mean honestly, how am I meant to be around him now I know the truth? How the hell did things get to this point? What kind of sick world do we live in these days, where Draco Malfoy is in love with me?"

His voice got louder with every question, until he was practically shouting. Hermione reached over at once, enveloping him in a hug.

"Shhh…" she murmured into his neck as he shook. "Shhh…"

When he had calmed down sufficiently, Hermione pulled away and looked at him seriously.

"I don't know the answers to any of those, Harry." She said quietly. "All I know is that from what you've told me, you reached the conclusion last night that if he loves you, you believe yourself capable of loving him back. Which I think is the bravest, sweetest thing I've ever heard anyone say. It's strange, I'll admit, that it seems like the world has set this up for you, but you should probably remember, the entire world has been here longer than you. Maybe it's figured out something a lot earlier than you have, and that strange night at the rose garden was its way of pointing out to you something you never would've seen or felt otherwise."

Harry stared at her. "How did you get to be so damn wise?"

"I guess it was what the world wanted for me." Hermione smiled. "Just as it seems this is what the world wants for you. The question is, do you want it?"

"Yeah." Harry said softly, his eyes glazed over, his expression distant. "I do."

"Then maybe you should go get it." She said.

"No, not now." He protested. "I can't. Daytime is too impersonal, and besides, I think I need some time to figure out a few things."

"If not now, then when?"

"When the world wants me to." Harry replied simply, and Hermione smiled, tears pricking her eyes, as she reached over and hugged him once more.

"It'll be OK, Harry." She said softly. "I know it'll be scary, but it just seems destined, you know? It'll be OK."

"I know, 'Mione." Harry replied, allowing the full weight of what he was agreeing to do sink and settle upon his body. He squeezed his friend for a moment.

"I know."

_TBC_

**AN: Yeesh…50 reviews. I never expected this kind of response. I'm a little overwhelmed, to be honest! Also, at how many people seemed to be mad at Harry for, in the last chapter, not whipping off the Cloak and being all, "Hey, don't cry, I love you too!" But people, I'm sorry to say, things _just don't work that way. _Particularly when I'm the author. ;)**

**This chapter has taken me quite a while to write, so I hope it was OK. Yes, it's short. Sorry. I just wanted to get both points of view sorted before we move on. Speaking of which, I'm going to go ahead and reveal that the next chapter will be the last. I might do an epilogue or something after that, but the next chapter will be the conclusion. So review away, my dears!**

**Thanks for reading, and see ya next time!**

**bleedingxheart**


	5. Rain In The Garden

'**Love is rain.' – Susie **

'**I love you; not only for what you are, but for what I am when I am with you.' - Roy Croft**

'**Love does not delight in evil, but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails.' - I Corinthians 13:4-8**

The Rose Garden – Chapter Five: Rain in the Garden

Hermione squeezed Harry's arm gently, showing support as they made their way down the long marble staircase.

"I know you said you wanted to stay in the dorm." She said consolingly, "but I really think it's important you try and eat normally."

"Ngh." Came Harry's response, causing Hermione to chuckle in quiet amusement.

"Come on, nearly there."

They reached the double doors of the Great Hall. With another reassuring squeeze of his arm, Hermione opened the doors and led him through into the warmth and noise of the hall.

Harry did his best not to look towards the Slytherin table as he followed Hermione to the opposite side of the room, where Ron and the others hailed them cheerfully.

"Feeling better, Harry?" Ron questioned, grinning as Harry took a seat beside him. "You look much better now."

"Yeah, thanks Ron." Harry said. "You know what they say, you always feel worse in the mornings."

"Do they?" Ron frowned, puzzled by this. He shrugged unconcernedly. "Oh well. Glad you're feeling better anyway, mate."

"What was wrong with you anyway, Harry?" Seamus asked from across the table.

"Oh, you know, just a headache, and I felt kind of dizzy." Harry said nonchalantly. "It's fine now."

There wasn't much else to say, so normal conversation resumed. Ron happily returned to his bacon, while Seamus turned back to Neville and Dean. Harry poured himself some pumpkin juice and took a long gulp.

After he'd set the goblet down, Hermione leaned over. "Holding up alright?" she murmured.

"Yeah." He replied quietly. "I'm just scared to meet his eyes. I know what I'll see there."

Hermione hummed in sympathy. "I guess if all goes to plan though, you're going to be seeing it a lot more often."

"I know, which is scary in itself." Harry said. "I bet he's looking at me right now, isn't he?"

Hermione casually glanced up and then back down again. "Yes, he is. Very obviously, as well."

"I don't know how I didn't notice this before." Harry murmured to himself.

Hermione shrugged. "You had your own life, I guess." She said. "Maybe you've realised all along but never really acknowledged it."

"No, it definitely wasn't that." Harry said firmly. "I had no idea."

"How long do you think he's loved you?" Hermione mused contemplatively.

Harry shrugged as well. "I don't know. I guess I'll find out tonight, won't I?" he said.

"Yeah, I guess you will."

"What are you guys talking about?" Ron questioned through a mouthful of bacon.

"Ronald, really." Hermione said, disgusted. "And nothing. Are you going to do your History of Magic essay today? You really should, you know."

Ron swallowed thickly. "But 'Mione, it's not due until Friday!" he protested.

Harry felt distantly grateful for Hermione's expert distraction skills, as they bickered back and forth beside him. He felt guilty for not telling Ron, but Harry needed to keep his sanity intact for that night.

If that was even possible, anyway.

HPDM

There was something infinitely hopeless, Draco mused, in watching your unrequited love from afar. Draco was beyond caring now that it was stalkerish, or even how unlike him it was to be so invested in another human being. His father had always taught him that to care about another person was to allow that person complete control over you. He'd drilled it into Draco the importance of never allowing this to happen.

'_Sorry, Father.' _Draco thought silently, as across the room, Harry smiled at something Granger said to him and Draco's heart lurched. _'I guess I failed that lesson.'_

To his surprise and amazement, at that moment Harry turned and looked straight at him, with a swirl of blazing emerald. He felt in mortification the way his cheeks warmed and his heart sped up.

Harry held his gaze for a moment, before he looked away again, an unreadable expression on his face. Draco wished yet again he had the ability to read minds.

Merlin, it was only eye contact, and yet Draco was shaking, his heart hammering, his face on fire. What kind of sick being was it that enabled people to become like this through merely looking at someone?

Draco was aware he'd been behind on homework lately. It was an endless cycle – he'd have homework due, he wouldn't do it, he'd go to the rose garden, stumble back at ridiculous times like 2 or 3 or sometimes even 4 in the morning, in which case he'd collapse into bed. The next day would produce more homework, which he didn't do, and so the cycle went.

Several teachers had been enquiring after him, and more than once Draco had had to attend a personal meeting with a teacher. It was interesting, the way they all approached him differently.

McGonagall had been stern, uncompromising. He was, after all, a Slytherin, one of the hated enemies of her precious lions, so no sympathy there.

"Malfoy, if this continues it is very likely you will ultimately fail your examinations, which I needn't remind you are only in a few weeks time, so if you do not pick your act up soon you will find yourself seeing a 'D' as your Transfiguration mark when your results come back" she'd snapped. "Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, Professor."

And yes, it was clear to Draco. The thing was, schoolwork problems had just seemed to have faded into nothing more than background noise in comparison to the all consuming pain that had encompassed him that seemed to be part and parcel of being in unrequited love with Harry Potter.

Which reminded him, he was meant to go and see Professor Snape after breakfast for yet another 'private meeting regarding his current performance.'

Bah.

Draco hummed absently under his breath, eyes on the wood of the table, determinedly not looking at Harry. He lasted about 30 or so seconds before he was once again compelled to look up and search out that dark head of hair.

'_Please kill me.' _He silently begged whoever was listening as the sight of Harry smiling yet again caused his heart to skip a beat.

HPDM

Draco descended the stone steps slowly, absently sensing the hypnotic way the flames flickered and danced on either side of him. Their warm light only pierced the cool air enough to illuminate the next few steps in front of him.

He moved down the long, narrow corridor, not noticing how his shoulders relaxed and movement became smoother as he did so. The dungeons were his natural environment, and even being in love with Harry Potter couldn't take away his ease within them.

Approaching the darkly wooded door of Snape's office, he knocked twice.

"Enter." Came the sneering voice of the Potions master, and Draco opened the door and went inside.

The high shelves were lined with glass jars filled with all manner of unpleasant looking objects. Resolutely ignoring them, Draco crossed the room and took a seat opposite where Snape was seated behind his desk.

"Mr Malfoy." He greeted.

"Professor." Draco nodded in return.

"You know why you're here, of course."

Draco said nothing, because this was obvious.

Snape leaned forward and steepled his long, pale fingers, twin curtains of dark and unwashed hair sweeping forward to frame his sallow face. He observed Draco for a moment, black eyes glittering calculatingly.

Draco sensed he was being judged, and sat a little straighter, wishing he'd at least had the sense not to have gone to the rose garden last night and thus deepen the shadows beneath his eyes. Too late now, though.

Apparently finished, Snape leaned back in his chair again and continued to eye him. "Your behaviour of late has been most unsatisfactory." He stated.

Draco said nothing.

"I have heard reports from the vast majority of your teachers…Flitwick, McGonagall, Sprout. They all tell me your academic record is lagging. In addition to this, they all expressed a concern in regards to your overall demeanour during class."

Draco remained silent, keeping his face as neutral as possible.

"I understand, naturally, that in light of recent events exemptions much be made on your behalf." Snape paused before continuing. "However, I do not think these events are excuse enough to miss nearly every single homework assignment consistently in nearly all of your subjects for the last month."

Draco inwardly winced. Now it was put that way, it really did sound terrible.

"I have refrained from contacting your mother. Naturally, she has other things to concern herself with at this time." Snape sneered. "However, as your Head of House it is my duty to ensure that all my students are performing to their optimum level. Therefore, I have decided to grant you a period of a week. In this coming week I am expecting you to do your homework for all of your subjects. End of year examinations are soon. I expect nothing but success from you in this regard.

He paused, looking at Draco severely. "If you have not picked up your grades, I will have no choice but to take this matter to the Headmaster, and to inform your mother. Am I making myself clear?"

"Yes, sir." Draco said quietly.

"Good. Now." Snape eyed him calculatingly again for a moment. "That should take care of your grades. I want to ask you now, Draco, as it is not only your other teachers who have noticed your demeanour recently. Is there anything…troubling you, that you wish to talk about?"

"No sir, nothing." Draco said blandly.

Impatience flickered across Snape's face, danced in those black eyes. "Anything which has caused you concern in recent weeks?"

"No sir, nothing."

"Have you been getting enough sleep?"

"Yes sir, enough." Draco lied, picturing in his head what his bags must look like from Snape's point of view.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Enough sleep, you say?"

"Yes sir."

"Then you can tell me why you have those hideous bags underneath your eyes, I presume?"

"Yes, sir." Draco wavered for a moment. "Admittedly the sleep I have been getting is less than the required amount, but I find it sufficient for me."

"Naturally." Snape said mildly. "Well, Draco, your friends may be willing to endure such pathetic excuses, but I am not. I will let it go this time, but unless your grades and behaviour improves this week, we will be having another little chat."

Draco swallowed. "Yes, sir."

"Is that all clear to you?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good. You are dismissed."

Snape picked up a long, black quill, dipped it in ink and began writing. Draco rose from his seat and left Snape's office in silence, closing the heavy door behind him and setting out along the corridor.

It was all very well and good for Snape to expect him to open up, just like that, about his grievances. The problem was, his grievance was simply too…well, to be honest, bizarre, for anyone to believe him, let alone help him with it.

This trial period was a novel concept, but Draco was certain he would not be able to complete it. He had no doubt that if his ardour were returned, he would be able to summon energy to do his work, and his appearance would improve accordingly.

As it was, that wasn't going to happen.

'_And never will.' _He reminded himself, sighing as he traced his steps back up the dungeon staircase, heading for the library to 'do some homework,' which in reality would be 'daydreaming about Harry.'

Again.

HPDM

The fire crackled loudly in its grate. For several hours it had been indiscernible above the noise of the common room. Now, however, its sound was loud enough that it seemed to echo around the room.

Harry sat with Hermione in their usual seats. The common room was empty. Everyone was in bed, it being a Sunday night. Harry's watch read 12:58am.

"Thanks for staying up with me, 'Mione." Harry said, gratitude clear in his voice. "You didn't need to."

"Don't mention it." She smiled back at him. "And of course I needed to, I couldn't have just let you stay down here by yourself, waiting."

Harry had decided at some point that afternoon, after much deliberation, to wait until at least 1:00am before leaving for the rose garden. So now he sat in the common room, Hermione with him, and invisibility cloak neatly folded beside him, waiting.

He checked again. 12:59am.

"Do you think you're ready?" she asked him.

He looked at her, a slightly wild expression in his eyes. "Ready? To tell my arch rival how I feel about him? Yep. Fine. Ready as I'll ever be."

She smiled gently. "Harry, come on, be serious."

He shrugged anxiously. "I don't know. I guess I'll find out when I get there."

His watched beeped once, cheerfully informing him it was now 1:00am.

Harry and Hermione merely looked at each other.

"Well." Hermione cleared her throat and stood. Harry stood as well.

"Good luck." She said simply. "I hope all goes well." She leaned over and hugged him tightly.

He hugged her back, feeling once again the sheer enormity of the events weigh down on him. "Thank you." He said sincerely. "Now go to bed, you at least should get some sleep."

They pulled apart, and she smiled at him as he picked up his Cloak and secured it around him, disappearing from sight.

"Good luck." She said again, listening to his footsteps fade and then watching the portrait swing open and then closed. She turned and headed for bed, silently hoping that whatever Harry was in for that evening, it would have the result he wanted.

HPDM

It was a strange night. It was the kind of night that could change your life, the rare kind of night where everything aligned itself to comply with your wishes.

The corridors were deserted – not a sign from Mrs Norris nor Filch nor any other human being. The world was keeping them away, guiding his steps leading towards the Entrance Hall. It had been waiting for this.

The faint golden light from his wand distorted the paintings he passed, reminding him of that first night. That strange night, only a few days ago. It seemed a lifetime ago now.

He reached the smooth marble of the staircase and thudded down it, not even bothering to stop and appreciate the rarely heard, almost indiscernible sound of his joggers on the stairs. He had no time for such small matters. His focus was on the greater world now.

Harry crossed the Hall quickly, and pushed lightly on the massive oak doors, pleased to feel the ease with which they yielded. No barriers tonight.

He extinguished his wand and then moved down the stone steps before turning directly right onto the velvety expanse of lawn. The air felt warm, moist. Overhead, ominous looking clouds were rolling in from the south, taking over the seemingly endless dark blue stretch of sky above him.

He walked across the grass, not stopping, not looking around, heading for his target destination.

The beautiful stone arc loomed out of the faint moonlight. He passed under it, along the cobblestone path, no eyes for the endless rose bushes. No eyes for anything, except for that – the smaller stone arc, which marked the spot he was looking for. He passed underneath that too.

There was the circle of rose bushes, there was the bench.

There was Draco.

Harry softened his footsteps as he approached. The clouds overheard were rolling in surprisingly quickly. The light from the moon dimmed slightly as the first wisps of cloud obscured its pure light.

The air was still warm and moist on his skin. Harry came to a stop on the opposite side of the garden from Draco, and stood, uncertain how to proceed. Now he was here, the original plan of whipping off his invisibility cloak with a flourish seemed foolish. What had he been thinking?

Somewhere over the distant hills, a low rumble sounded. A few sputters of rain fell from the sky, big, fat drops of water which were contrastingly cold against the air.

Harry watched, spellbound, as the rain spattered onto Draco's hair, hands, face. The droplets sat perfectly on the pale skin, giving him the appearance of being covered in drops of dew.

Draco was perfectly still on the bench, apparently barely even noticing the arrival of rain. The faraway look in his silver eyes suggested to Harry that he was clearly not altogether mentally present.

Draco hummed lightly now, another tune that spoke to Harry of painful love, of deep sadness.

Harry knew what happened next, and sure enough, Draco stopped humming and began to sing, his clear, miserable voice resonating through the garden.

"The winter here's cold  
And bitter  
It's chilled us to the bone  
I haven't seen the sun for weeks  
Too long, too far from home."

Harry took a step forward, feeling beyond the control of his body at the sight of the beautiful boy before him. He froze, however, when Draco began to sing again.

"I feel just like I'm sinking  
And I claw for solid ground  
I'm pulled down by the undertow  
I never thought I could feel so low  
Oh darkness, I feel like letting go."

To Harry's amazement, Draco now stood up and began wandering aimlessly around the small space, apparently so filled with emotion he couldn't sit still. It was all Harry could do to keep out of his way as Draco continued singing.

"If all of the strength and all of the courage  
Come and lift me from this place  
I know I could love you much better than this  
Full of grace, full of grace  
My love."

Harry swerved as quickly as he could as Draco moved closer to his location. His heart was hammering wildly, partly in anticipation for what was going to happen, partly because of what was now the third reminder of how real this whole thing really was.

Draco stopped for a moment, lightly touching a particularly beautiful blood-red rose, which was dappled with water. He stroked a long, pale finger slowly along the velvety petals, and took up the song again.

"So it's better this way, I said  
Having seen this place before  
Where everything we say and do  
Hurts us all the more."

Harry absently brushed the water from his face. It was merely a spring shower, but still the rain was sufficient that it was soaking through his hair, sliding behind his glasses into his eyes.

He saw a droplet of water slide down the back of Draco's pale, elegant neck and resisted the urge to reach out and wipe it from that perfect skin. Draco moved again now, back over to near the bench, still singing.

"It's just that we stayed, too long  
In the same old sickly skin  
I'm pulled down by the undertow  
I never thought I could feel so low  
Oh darkness, I feel like letting go."

Harry moved closer to him, desperate, needing to do something, anything, but Draco's words wouldn't allow it.

"If all of the strength and all of the courage  
Come and lift me from this place  
I know I could love you much better than this  
Full of grace."

Draco moved to stand in the centre of the space, startling Harry and causing him to flee to the side. Draco tilted his head up against the slowing rain, staring at the clouded sky, eyes bright and miserable.

"I know I could love you much better than this  
It's better this way."

The rain, already easing off, died down completely now, leaving the garden refreshed and the air cool and light.

Draco lowered his head, tears staining his eyelashes and cheeks. Harry stepped forward once more, beyond even trying to control himself.

Unfortunately, at that moment Draco turned and started to move back to the bench. The result of this was that they ran directly into each other, and Harry was knocked over, the cloak partially sliding off him as he went down.

"What the…" Draco shook himself, confused, and looked down.

The sight of Harry, only partially visible and partially soaked at that, lying on the grass, made his mouth go dry, for more reasons than one.

"Potter?" he gasped, staggering backwards, the blood receding rapidly from his face. _'Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit. Shit, shit, shit.'_

Harry hurriedly got to his feet, unfastening his cloak and flinging it on the bench as he did so.

"Hey, Malfoy." He said, as though it were a completely normal occurrence to be caught in the rose garden listening to your arch rival singing by said arch rival.

"How…how long have you been here?" Draco whispered, mortified, blushing a deep scarlet as he stared in shock and horror at Harry.

Harry's heart was beating wildly, his hands were shaking and he felt like he was going to throw up, but he stepped forward nonetheless. _Go, _the world urged. _Now._

"Long enough." Harry said simply, taking another step forward.

"Oh, Merlin." Draco breathed, almost to himself. "Oh, this is not good. Not good."

"Draco." Harry said gently, and Draco started, staring incredulously at Harry. "Look, I know, OK? I _know. _It's OK now."

"What?" Draco said, bewildered, backing away fast now. "What are you…why are you…"

"Draco." Harry said patiently. "It's OK. I know that you're in love with me."

Draco whimpered, backing up enough that he ended up collapsing on the bench.

"Where did you get that from, I don't love you, crazy Potter, such nonsense…" Draco gabbled.

Harry came right up close to him until he was only a metre or so away, and then began to sing.

"Say you'll stay, don't come and go, like you do." He smiled at Draco. "Sway my way, I need to know all about you."

"How did you…" Draco whispered, stunned.

"A few nights ago, I couldn't sleep." Harry explained quickly. "I got the crazy idea to come out here, and you were here, and you were singing, and it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen."

"You saw…" Draco repeated, beyond mortified now.

"Yes, I did. And I clearly heard you say you loved me."

"Oh, shit." Draco breathed.

"No, no, calm down." Harry chuckled. "I'm not done yet. Obviously I was freaked out at first, I mean, who wouldn't be? I tortured myself the entirety of the next day about what I should do, even if I should do anything."

Draco was quiet now, listening intently.

"In the end I explained the situation to Hermione. Without mentioning names!" he added hastily, for alarm had flashed in Draco's eyes. "She asked me if I loved you back…and I said no."

Draco's face fell.

Summoning as much Gryffindor courage as he could, Harry leaned over and tilted Draco's chin back upwards. "But," he said gently, "She then asked me if I thought I _could _love you."

Draco looked at him, earlier tears still sitting on his skin. Harry soothed them away with a thumb. "I didn't answer her, because I was scared I already knew the answer."

Draco exhaled slowly, his breath ghosting over Harry's hand, causing the latter to shiver. "And…what was the answer?"

"It took me another day, and another conversation with Hermione, to realise." Harry reached down and took Draco's hands, pulling him to his feet so they were facing each other. Draco blinked at him, eyes gleaming silver under the strengthening light of the moon. It was a perfect vision – silver eyes, icy hair, and pale skin framed by the dark greens and reds and crystal whites of the rose bushes behind him. Harry allowed himself a moment to admire this view.

He entwined their fingers, amazed at how smooth the skin there was. Draco's eyes widened comically at the simple gesture.

"I realised that yes, I could love you." Harry murmured, letting go briefly of one perfect hand to wipe more tears away from a perfect cheek. "And strangely enough, since the idea was planted in my head I can't imagine continuing my life without testing that little theory."

Draco stared at him, bug eyed. "You…what are you actually saying?" he whispered.

"I'm saying that I'm not in love with you this instant, but I think it'll only be a matter of time before I will be. I'm saying that I know you're in love with me, and that although that terrifies me, I can't imagine anything more exciting in the world. I'm saying that I never, ever thought this could happen, in a million years, but now it's happened I don't think I'd want things any other way. I'm saying, in short, Draco," and here Harry leaned in close until they were practically nose-to-nose, "There's nowhere else I'd rather be now than here in the rose garden, at 1:30 in the morning, holding your hand."

Draco eyes nearly shot out of his head as he started in amazement, shock and hope at Harry.

"You…you mean it?" he whispered. "You truly mean it?"

"Every word." Harry replied simply.

Draco exhaled softly. A blush was creeping onto his cheeks. He looked completely beautiful.

"Then…then I want to tell you, Harry…" he paused, looking like he still didn't believe any of it was actually happening, "…that I…I love you."

Harry grinned wide at this, his heart skipping a beat at the words. "And I couldn't be happier to hear it." He smiled back.

"But…" and now Draco tried to pull away, looking distraught, "What about my friends, what about my mother, what about your friends? How the hell are we going to…"

"Shhhhh." Harry soothed. "That will come in time. We don't need to worry about that now."

He reached out and lightly touched Draco's smooth skin again, trailing his fingers over the forehead, the pointed nose, and the trembling lips.

Harry leaned forward and lightly pressed his lips to Draco's trembling ones, going slowly, hands moving to rest on the narrow hips, tangle in the soft hair.

It was only brief before Harry pulled away, opening his eyes slowly. Draco gazed back at him, looking thunderstruck.

"I never thought this would happen." He whispered.

"It's happening now, though." Harry murmured back.

"So…what do we do now?"

Harry smiled, tracing Draco's lips lightly with a finger once more. "Whatever we want." He whispered. "We've got the rest of the morning."

"I know I could love you much better than this." Draco sang softly, smiling despite himself.

Harry smiled back. "My love."

As they kissed again on that note, Harry remembered back to the first night, and the shock he'd experienced in this very spot. There was no doubt on that strange night the world had created a plan for him, and there was no doubt everything had come together to allow him to follow that plan.

He couldn't help but feel, as Draco's hands slid cautiously into his hair, like he now owed the world a favour for setting this up for him.

"I love you." Draco breathed against his mouth.

Then again, the world could wait. For now, it was just them.

And the rose garden, as always.

_Fin_

**AN: First of all, the 'love is rain' quote comes from my friend Susie. We were in English class and trying to write a romantic poem and looking around going 'love is… love is…' and then it started raining, so she said 'love is rain.' I felt it was an appropriate quote to use here hahaha.**

**Secondly, I would like to now register my amazement and gratitude for the overwhelming response I received for this fic. I never thought so many people would like it, so thank you so much for that **

**Thirdly, the third and final song of this fic is called 'Full of Grace' by Sarah McLachlan. Full credit to her for the lyrics. Also kudos once again to Bic Runga, coz I used some lyrics from 'Sway' again. Speaking of which, I highly recommend listening to 'Full of Grace' during that scene. It's an absolutely beautiful, beautiful song.**

**I will more than likely be posting a separate story as a follow up to this, in a few weeks or so, so keep an eye out for that if you want to read it.**

**Until then, please review and let me know what you thought of the ending, or the story in general. I like feedback. And thank you very much for taking the time to read my little fic about two crazy boys and an even crazier rose garden. I appreciate it. **

**Until whenever, dear readers!**

**bleedingxheart**


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